


Periwinkle

by per_mare_ad_astra



Series: Shipmas 2017 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: (kind of), 12 days of shipmas, Christmas Tree Decorating, Fairies, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/per_mare_ad_astra/pseuds/per_mare_ad_astra
Summary: As Scorpius had cheerfully pointed out, a Christmas tree just wasn’t the same without real, living fairy lights.





	Periwinkle

**Author's Note:**

> My second fic for littlerose13writes's 12 Days of Shipmas! The prompt for day 2 is "Christmas tree decorating"
> 
> I may have cheated a bit on this one, since there isn't any actual tree decorating. You can blame it on two things: 1) I can't get the 'Waltz of the Snowflakes' from The Nutcracker out of my head and 2) there's this huge tree next to my bus stop and someone's wrapped fairy lights all around the trunk, and since I spend a ridiculous amount of time waiting for the bus every day, I started thinking... and this happened.

_How_ Scorpius had convinced him that going fairy hunting in bloody Wiltshire in the middle of December was a good idea, he didn’t know. It had probably involved a pleading look from those big grey eyes, a kiss or two, and Scorpius’s more cunning streak. He was a Slytherin for a reason, after all. And Albus was _weak_.

A sensible couple would be at home right now, drinking hot chocolate or snogging on the sofa, but Scorpius wasn’t sensible where Christmas was concerned, and Albus wasn’t sensible where Scorpius was concerned, so there they were.

Merlin, it was cold.

“Are you _sure_ you know where we’re going, Scorpius?” he asked for the fifth time.

Scorpius’s hold on his hand tightened. “Of course I do.”

And Albus would trust Scorpius with his life, but he wasn’t sure he trusted him to know how to find a fairy nest in… wherever they were. He lifted his gaze from the snow-covered ground, even though looking around him served little purpose. There were trees, trees, trees, the occasional boulder or fallen log, and more trees. It was still early afternoon, but the sun was already setting, and the bright rays that filtered through the hundreds of tree branches tinged the whiteness with shades of pink and gold. If he was completely honest with himself, it was rather beautiful. Exactly the kind of strange, mysterious place you would expect fairies to live in, he supposed.

In the Potter household, James had always been the one who ventured outside to find them. He actually enjoyed it, the nutter. He’d come back home with bright red cheeks and fairies clinging to his scarf, and he’d inevitably spend the following days nursing a cold.

Scorpius was no different. He’d been adorably bouncy all day, fully enjoying his time off from work. They’d spent most of the morning putting up the decorations in their new shared home, unearthing tinsel and ornaments from the dozens of boxes they had yet to unpack. The soon-to-be Potter-Malfoy residence was a half-full mess, but it certainly didn’t lack festive cheer, and Albus loved it to bits. Their tree, which they’d bedecked with everything from Astoria Malfoy’s old baubles to Albus’s Chudley Canons figurines, was a particular favourite of his.

But, as Scorpius had cheerfully pointed out, a Christmas tree just wasn’t the same without real, living fairy lights.

So on and on they trudged, every wet, miserable step making Albus wish they were back at home, _their_ home, finding new and exciting uses for that glorious leather sofa Scorpius had brought with him from Malfoy Manor.

As if sensing his boyfriend’s reluctance, Scorpius snuggled closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His lips were chapped and cold, but Albus couldn’t have cared less.

“Mum used to take me fairy hunting when I was little,” Scorpius said in a hushed voice, his breath coming out in puffs that felt warm against Albus’s skin. “She loved talking to them and she had a real knack for finding their nests. She used to bring Dad here too, before I was born.” Albus couldn’t imagine Draco enjoying this any more than he was. “It’s a bit romantic, don’t you think?”

Albus opened his mouth to point out how much more romantic it would be if they came at another time, with weather-appropriate clothing, but Scorpius suddenly let out a strangled squee of delight, his grip on Albus’s hand becoming painful.

“There it is!” he whisper-yelled.

And there it was. Even from a distance, it was unmistakable, because of course a fairy would make the most formidable tree in the forest its home. The massive, sprawling oak seemed to stand apart, infinitely more magnificent and ancient than its neighbours. Surely even Muggles would be able to tell that this was no ordinary tree, even if the glowing lights that came from the hollow at its centre weren’t a dead giveaway. Every inch of it, from the deepest root to the tallest branch, seemed to buzz with magic.

The boys approached it slowly, almost reverently. Thoughts of freezing cold and soaked socks had fled from Albus’s mind, where there was only room for awe now.

Scorpius turned his head to beam at him, not needing words to share his excitement; Albus immediately returned the gesture.

Scorpius reached out a hand, letting it trail down the rough bark of the trunk, and then he tapped it lightly with his forefinger.

“This is so they know I’m here, and that I’d like to see them, and that they can come out if they want,” he explained to Albus quietly.

And sure enough, a small, periwinkle blob of light flew out of the tree hollow and landed gracefully on Scorpius’s hand. Albus had seen illustrations of fairies before in his copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , but he was still surprised by how very _tiny_ they were. This one couldn’t be taller than his thumb, and its pale skin, light hair and insect-like wings glowed with a purple-blue hue.

“Wow,” Scorpius breathed, his grey eyes alight with wonder. Bathed in that soft glow, he looked rather fae-like himself. Albus’s heart skipped a beat. He should have been used to this—they’d been together for years now, they were even _engaged—_ but there was just no getting used to Scorpius’s unique beauty. He wanted it to keep surprising him every day for the rest of his life.

The fairy seemed pleased by Scorpius's attention. It puffed up like a peacock, fluttering its wings in what Albus assumed must be a coquettish fashion, for a fairy. He snorted. _‘Good luck with that, mate. He’s taken.’_

The fairy’s eyes snapped to him. Its head tilted to one side, and it made an inquisitive little chittering sound. With an elegant leap, it flew off Scorpius’s hand and paused inches from Albus’s right shoulder, which it proceeded to poke repeatedly with a bare foot.

He stared at it, nonplussed. “Scorpius, why am I being viciously kicked by a fairy?”

“Your hand, Albus,” Scorpius said, smiling. “It wants to see your hand.”

“What’s so special about my hand?” Albus really didn’t fancy losing what little sensation he had left in his fingers—he didn’t have Scorpius’s ridiculous resistance to the cold—but he took of his right glove and let the fairy prod them as it pleased.

“No one really knows why, but fairies always insist on looking at a human’s hand,” Scorpius said, a familiar gleam of academic fervour in his eyes. “Newt Scamander had this theory about how it’s related to their fear of Bowtruckles—they’re their natural predators—which is why they like to make sure that your fingers are soft…”

Albus was all too happy to listen to him geek out; so happy, in fact, that he didn’t notice the periwinkle fairy’s intentions until it was too late. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his forefinger, like he'd been stabbed with a needle.

“ _Ouch_!” Albus stared at the bite marks on his finger in horror, then at the twittering fairy, which seemed delighted by his reaction in a rather childlike way. “It bit me!”

“Yes, they do that sometimes,” said Scorpius, beaming at it fondly. “They’re very curious, especially the younger ones. I think this one might only be a few weeks old, if you look at the colour of its wings—”

“It _bit_ me!”

“Fairies aren’t venomous, Albus. You’ll live.”

“Are you this unsympathetic with all of your patients, Healer Malfoy?”

“Just the silly ones,” Scorpius said lightly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, but he reached for Albus’s hand and pressed a kiss to the injured finger. “There, all better.”

“It’s good to see that two years of Healer School have paid off. What an amazing display of magic.”

Scorpius made a face at him. “I’ll refrain from kissing things better in the future, then. Only boring spells and potions for Albus Potter.”

While they bickered, more fairies had flown out of the tree hollow, attracted by the noise. They fluttered around the two boys, a dizzying swirl of radiant colours that moved too fast for the eye to follow. They communicated with each other through buzzing, chattering sounds, most of which were coming from their periwinkle friend. Slowly, other fairies grew as daring as this one, and Scorpius was approached by a bright green one that peered at him curiously, then settled itself on his left shoulder. Albus’s own fairy was chittering again, trying to grab a hold of his hand.

“ _No_ ,” he said sternly.

The fairy burst into tears.

“Oh, no, please don’t,” Scorpius said hurriedly. “Don’t cry! He’s not angry, I promise. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t... I mean... I wasn’t _that_ mean, was I?” Albus said, alarmed. He knew he could be a bit blunt and disagreeable sometimes, but he hadn’t meant to upset the poor creature. He just didn’t want to be its chew toy.

“Fairies are very sensitive to emotions,” Scorpius informed him. “But they’re so small that they get overwhelmed easily. Something that makes you just a little bit sad can be devastating to a fairy, the same way that something mildly annoying can make them absolutely furious. You have to be gentle.”

“Oh. Right.” Feeling slightly guilty, Albus turned to the wailing fairy. Minuscule teardrops as bright as diamonds were spilling down its cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, bending his knees so they were more or less at eye level. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. But you hurt me a bit, yeah? And I didn’t want you to do it again. I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh.”

The fairy looked at him tearfully. Albus wondered if it could even understand him.

“You’re forgiven?” he said tentatively, holding out his bitten forefinger as a peace offering.

That seemed to do the trick. The fairy brightened up instantly, misery forgotten, and it clung to his finger in a sort of half-hug. Then it stood on the tip, leapt off it with a graceful somersault, and flew up, up, up until it landed on top of his head. The other fairies, which had been their exchange intently, followed suit, looking curious. They were almost as light as air, so Albus barely felt them.

He obviously couldn’t see a thing, but he could imagine little Periwinkle perched among his dark hair, holding court like some kind of miniature monarch. He smiled at the thought.

“It’s like you’re wearing a flower crown,” Scorpius said happily. “You look lovely.”

With all of those fairies and his own bright red blush, Albus was probably glowing in all of the colours of the rainbow. He coughed awkwardly.

“Why is it,” he said, “that magical creatures _always_ cling to me?”

“They clearly have excellent taste,” said Scorpius, winking and taking hold of his hand once again.

“First the Pygmy Puff, now half a dozen fairies. We’ll turn the house into a magical menagerie if we’re not careful.”

“As if you don’t like Strawberry at least as much as I do,” Scorpius teased.

He was right, of course: their pet Pygmy Puff had grown on him over the years. And the fairies… well, they really weren’t that bad. Even if they were pulling his hair a little bit.

“So we’re taking them home, then?” He still got a rush whenever he said that word: home. _Their_ home.

“Yes.” Scorpius squeezed his hand, smiling softly at his fiancé and his peculiar little fairy crown. “Yes, I think we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and/or reviews are appreciated! ❤️


End file.
